


A War Between the Vanities

by roseandheather



Category: Code Black (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 21:50:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6442291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseandheather/pseuds/roseandheather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leanne, stuck at a conference in New York, really misses Ed.</p><p>The feeling is mutual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A War Between the Vanities

"The next time I agree to go to one of these things, shoot me."

"Now, Leanne, I'm sure it isn't that bad."

"Why you smug little...!!" Tinny laughter echoes over the line, and Leanne can't stop herself from grinding her teeth. "There are _people_ here, Ed. People who expect me to _talk_ to them. About _budgets_ and _administration_ and _profit margins._ Or, even worse, _personnel management._ What even is there to talk about personnel management, anyway? You tell your personnel to do something, and then they do it! If they do something stupid, you tell them to not do the stupid thing again, and if they're being assholes to each other, you tell them to stop or go home until they can be productive! But no, they're throwing around words like _'resource management_ ' and ' _team-building_ '. What do I know about any of that?"

"Quite a lot, if your residents' improvements over the last eighteen months is any indication," Ed says softly in her ear, and Leanne bites her lip and fights back tears.

"Dammit," she whispers, furious at the drop already sliding down her cheek. "I hate all of this. I hate New York, I hate this stupid, cookie-cutter hotel, I hate the crappy food, and goddammit, Ed, I hate every single one of these people for _not being you._ "

"Oh, Lea," he says in her ear, heartfelt, and the sheer _feeling_ in his voice nearly breaks her. "I miss you, too, sweetheart. I can't wait to see you again."

Just then a knock sounds on the door, and Leanne nearly throws something. "Hang on," she says brusquely into the phone. "Someone's knocking. Hold on until I make them go away."

"Of course," he says, and she sets the phone down on the bed and crosses the room to fumble with the latches.

"Yes?" she says crossly, yanking the door open and silently loathing whichever moron is taking her away from the scant, cold comfort of Ed's voice in her ear when he can't be in her arms. "What do you - "

And suddenly, all she can do is stare, because standing outside her door, sliding his phone into his pocket, is Ed Harbert.

"Well, I want you," he says blandly, a smile quirking at one corner of his lips, and his voice - so _familiar_ it hurts - breaks the spell.

"Ed," she whispers, and leaps into his arms.

As always - of course, as _always -_ he catches her.

She doesn't care that all she's wearing is one of Ed's old, worn t-shirts from Stanford Graduate School of Business, without even a pair of underwear on to prevent her from flashing the entire hallway. She doesn't care that her hair is a mess, that her makeup is smudged beyond belief, or that her face is splotchy and red with crying.

All she cares about is that he's _here,_ murmuring nonsense into her ear as she buries her face in the curve of his neck and breathes him in.

"Hi," she says foolishly quite a few minutes later, when he's seated on her bed and she's cradled in his lap. Somewhere in the intervening minutes he's rescued her glasses and set them aside, and now he's got her face in his hands, his thumbs gently wiping the salty tracks from her cheeks. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too," he murmurs, his eyes crinkling in a private smile that's only ever been hers. "Which is why I cut out of work at lunch today and headed straight for LAX. I couldn't stand it, Leanne, knowing that I was facing a whole weekend without you, and I figured - why not? I've got the frequent flyer miles to spare, New York isn't exactly a hard place for me to entertain myself, and when you're done for the day... I'll be here."

"Thank God," whispers Leanne, and she sags a little bit further against him.

"I know it's not quite as good as coming home," he continues, and stops when she looks up to stare at him.

"Ed," she says slowly, as though she's speaking to a particularly thick mastiff. "You're here. I _am_ home."

"Oh," he says softly, as a grin spreads across her face because - wow, he really didn't already know that, which is a serious failure on her part. "I thought that was just me."

"No," she says, stifling the laugh. "Not just you."

"Okay," he says, smiling that blinding grin at her, and then his mouth is on hers, and anything else she had to say vanishes in the fiery plume of his kiss.

When they break apart she's panting and he's crying, and she just has to kiss the tears from his cheeks because - well, just _because._ It seems to have finally hit him that they've been apart for a week, that she's not wearing very much, and that there's quite a sizable bed at their disposal, because his hands are wandering under her neckline and sleeves and heat is starting to curl deep in her belly.

"Is this my shirt?" he asks, befuddled, taking in the words for the first time, and Leanne just shrugs.

"It smells like you," she admits, shy, and when he flips her under him, she bursts out in gales of unrestrained, _happy_ laughter as what feels like a week's worth of tension and anxiety dissolves in an instant.

She's grateful he'd changed into jeans and a polo before getting on the plane, because it means she can drag them off and drop them on the floor without worrying about wrinkles or maintenance or anything else except getting him naked as efficiently as possible. He takes much longer to strip the shirt off her - probably because he likes the look of her in it, and also the symbolism - but she doesn't care, because he slides into her with a grunt of profound relief, his hands skittering tender, reverent touches over her cheeks and neck, shoulders and sides and hips. He's crushing her into the mattress, as deep and hot and close inside her as he can get, and his weight surrounding her is its own kind of freedom; she's never felt this safe, this open, this _wanted_ with almost anyone else in her life, and if she hadn't already known that Ed Harbert was her second chance at the love of a lifetime - which she unmistakably, emphatically _does,_ thank God and all the angels that she now can't believe  _don't_ exist somewhere - that fact alone would have convinced her.

They're both exhausted, so when they come it's in a warm, sweet rush of warmth like a wave cresting on the shore, one that drains away again leaving them both heavy, limp and satisfied with relaxation. Leanne thinks there will be fireworks in the morning, on a full night's sleep when they inevitably wake up skin to naked skin, but for tonight, the fireworks can wait. This is all she needs.

"C'mon," he mumbles into her shoulder, when even she is starting to feel the chill. She gets up to turn off the lights, and when she crawls under the covers, it's to be tugged against his side with strong, sturdy, familiar arms. She throws a leg over his, an arm over his ribs, and settles her head on his chest, and he brushes a sleepy kiss to her hair as his hand tangles with hers and his other arm tightens around her shoulders.

"I'm so glad you're here," she whispers, her voice choked.

"Oh, Lea," he murmurs against her hair. "I wouldn't be anywhere else."

~*~

The rest of the weekend vanishes in a blur. The conference is as boring and the people as infuriating as ever, but she gets to come back to _him,_ and that's more than enough. When she gets back on Saturday he half-heartedly suggests going out to dinner; she gives him a Look of the first order that has him laughing and informing her that the room service menu looks excellent.

It is, and afterward he melts her into the mattress with firm, gentle fingers massaging a week's worth of tension from her shoulders and back. By the end she's loose and lazy from orgasm, absently stroking his hair as he slides inside her and comes a few strokes later with a shudder and a whisper of her name.

By lunchtime on Sunday, when the Conference from Hell is finally over, they pack their bags and head for LaGuardia hand-in-hand. For some reason the city looks more beautiful, glass and steel sparkling against the sky, and Leanne only has to look to her left to know why.

"Thank you for doing this," he murmurs in her ear when the plane has levelled out and she's snuggled in his arms.

"Oh," she says breezily, relaxing into his gentle strokes on her back. "It wasn't so bad."

He arches an eyebrow.

"Okay!" she cries, laughing. "It was awful and terrible and I never want to do it again. But," she admits, more seriously now, "I will, if I have to. For you, I will."

When he leans down to kiss her, she forgets there's anyone else in the world. She forgets the plane, the hotel, the conference, and the stress. She even, for once, forgets how badly she wants to go home.

After all, she's already there.

 

**Author's Note:**

> With all due respect to mastiffs (and mastiff-lovers), they are _dumb_ dogs. Incredibly sweet, but dumber than a box of bricks. So please don't throw said bricks at me, okay? :)
> 
> Those (probably very few, if any) of you who have been with me since my _Inspector Lynley_ days (which aren't over - don't panic!) will recognize this fic as essentially a re-tread of "Another Suitcase in Another Hall", in general theme if not in specifics. I was going to apologise for that, but... uh, no. "Another Suitcase" is a damn good fic, and I was in the mood to write some Ed/Leanne and the idea of remixing that fic and this pairing appealed to me. So, not sorry. :D
> 
> I hope y'all enjoy this while we impatiently wait for Iris to update "Here We Are". ;)


End file.
